Embers
by Vicarious Vanity
Summary: "...Soon, the Flames will fade. And only Dark will remain."
1. Asylum

**Disclaimer: All characters, concepts and locations are property of FromSoftware and Bandai/Namco.**

* * *

 **Embers**

Asylum

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

A cold wind howled through the icy white-capped mountains, weaving its way to unknowable destinations. It's mission unidentifiable, it's existence almost blissful unto itself but will ultimately go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the world. Such is the fate of all that is deemed insignificant to those of immeasurable importance.

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

That infernal sound echoed throughout the dark prison cell. Four imposing walls of aged –yet curiously solid- brick and mortar, turned a sickly dull gray from however many years since its assembly. The pungent stench of what can only be described as _suffering_ wafted throughout the cell and beyond the heavily rusted bars of the doorway leading to the unknown. The only light source –and the source for that wretched sound- was a single square hole in the ceiling. It allowed the cell preciously scant hours of sunlight a day, barely outlining the cell's current occupants: rusted chains littering the floor, an old rotted wooden bucket in one corner, a stack of what seemed like hay –though of an old and pale coloring, no doubt stale and lifeless- nestled in another corner and a figure in the third corner.

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

The figure in the corner turned its head toward the center of the cell, covered by a black tatty hood. The horribly torturous sound had created a small deposit of water on the floor. The figure made to move, to crawl to the center of the cell, to taste what little nourishment whatever divine power had saw fit to place before it but inevitably failed, it's terribly ragged robes rustling in the process. How long had it been sitting here? It did not know. Muscles that once could have been strong and lively were now weak and thin. What would be the point, anyway? Organs that were possibly healthy at one point have now forgotten the taste of water, the texture of liquid. It could not even recall the last time it had felt the presence of sustenance within its body.

Should a body that has forgotten what it feels like to be alive have the gift of life? Can a body with no concept of death be allowed to taste the sweet sting of ultimate demise?

These thoughts fluttered to and from its consciousness –as would a small flurry of wind through the air- but it kept itself tethered to one: How long **had** it been here?

The thought crossed its mind several times during the few instances of lucidity in this place. Had it been mere seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? Years? Centuries? The concept of time had long left it behind; its only indicator was the opening in the ceiling, after all.

This particular line of thought brought another question to the forefront: **Why** was it here? Had it committed some crime? Some act of vanity –or desperation- that had sealed its fate away in this forsaken place? It could not recall.

The being had an, at best, _vague_ recollection of what would be considered a past; fuzzy memories of long deprived warmth and sweet aromas of forgotten flora. The only keepsakes of such a time were kept close to its body –as if the proximity would trigger more realistic remembrances, hidden beneath faded black robes.

A small, intricately designed key –one that had been used countless times on the door to its cell in hopes of freedom, perhaps it will forget again and have blissful imaginings of an existence beyond this cell for a time, before reacquainting itself with what little reality remained in this world.

The next item was strange doll clothed in a strange dress –where had it gotten this? It cannot remember. It would seem a child's toy, a memento of an innocence that had long been snuffed out.

The final item was a ring. For some reason it felt a strong empathy with this ring. The design was rather simple; red coloring with elaborate gold-yellow embroidery on the outside and a message on the inside of the same color, written in a script unknown to it. Could it have stolen the ring in a misguided attempt at mischievousness during a dis-remembered youth? The ring could have been given to it, as a token of courtship or some other equally meaningless ritual from an individual who had neither a face nor name in its mind. Whatever the reason, the ring was now in its possession and it would keep this small bauble safe.

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

That achingly painful sound brought it out of futile muses. The past was unimportant, only that those events led to this cell; this sickeningly oppressive place that had been its home for an incalculable amount of time.

Lifting its hands –an act that had left feeble muscles shaking- to its view, the being saw hands that could only be described as _lifeless_. The flesh was horribly twisted and bruised. Skin pulled back frighteningly tight as it tried to flex its fingers, bone almost visible through the dried leather-like material that seemed much too taut. _This_ was its existence, forgotten and left to rot like a relic of a time that had been dead and gone for ages.

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

Shaking fingers clenched into fists as rotted teeth gritted so hard it _hurt_. It could feel pain; pain that transformed itself into a moment of clarity. It was alive. It was not dead. It was no prisoner. It remembers. It _is_ _ **human**_! Hands fell to the floor as it tried to lift itself up. Muscles ached painfully as they willed themselves to life once more. It heaved itself up into a squat and in an act of sheer willpower it stood. Black raggedy robes rustling and shifting, it took one shaky step forward on bare feet, then another, and one more until it was at the center of the cell and its form immediately crumbled, kneeling down atop the puddle of water and finally ceasing that horrific noise.

With more effort than should be necessary, it willed its eyes to focus and what it saw in the reflection in that small silver pool was enough to set even the most grizzled war veteran aflame with terror.

Horrible, scarred skin glared angrily back at it, sunken and sickeningly fleshy, showing off too much bone structure to be normal. Teeth turned green with rot and decay, it was a wonder they stayed in place, lips an unhealthy pale red and chapped. Eyes –perhaps the most unsettling, even to it- were completely black; sunken into the sockets of its skull and rimmed with bags just as dark. They were devoid of life, cold and uncaring.

It reeled back, repulsed and intrigued; had it always been this way? It could not process the thought. It was human – _is_ human- and it was sure a human didn't look so… grotesque.

 _You're not human._

Blackened eyelids clenched shut as the thought echoed loudly throughout its skull like a siren's call. It did not believe that. It couldn't. It is human, it is alive.

 _You are not alive. Life has left your body even before you arrived here._

What did that voice know? It did not know it, did not understand what hell it was in. Its suffering was its own; it knew it could leave this place any time it wanted.

 _You cannot leave. You can never leave. This place is where you belong, with the rest of the rubbish._

It shook its head vehemently. No! The voice is wrong! The voice does not know it!

 _I know you because I am you._

Eyes snapped open and they stared at the small puddle beneath it. That incongruous creature stared back at it, lips pulled back in a wicked and ugly grin, eyes glinting with a cruel glee. It gaped at the reflection. This was not it. It did not know what it was, but _this_ was most decidedly not it. It is human!

 _It_ _ **was**_ _human._

It is alive!

 _It is_ _ **dead**_.

It is in control!

 _It is lost!_

It is whole!

 _It is broken!_

It is **Human**!

 _ **It is HOLLOW!**_

Its back arched and head reared backward as an earsplitting scream resounded from what was left of its lungs, a shriek so loud and so powerful that the other creatures beyond the door cowered in fear. It was so loud it was sure it would garner attention from the demons of hell itself. It was not a sound of anger or sadness. It was the sound of rebellion. Why should it accept this horrible, malicious _creature_? It decided its own fate. It would leave this place.

With a disgusting crunch, its head plummeted toward the puddle; forehead making contact with hard stone beneath. Pulling back, it stared hazily at the ground. That _thing_ was still there, taunting it in a pool of water and blood. It reared back again and descended, another nauseating crack filled the cell. _It_ was still there, it could hear _it_ giggling with an insane delight, another sick pop of flesh upon wet stone.

 _You'll never be free._

Smash!

 _You belong here._

Crack!

 _Life didn't want you,_

Smack!

 _Why should death…?_

 **Crunch**!

Its gaze wavered; it could not see gray stone anymore. Pulling back, it slumped to the side and onto its back with a thump. The light of the sun had come and gone. Only darkness filled the cell. _It_ was gone. Could it finally be free? Free of this waking nightmare of an existence? Consciousness faded, eyes slid shut. Breath came to a stop and for the briefest of moments and the longest of eternities it finally knew _peace_.

* * *

…

…

…

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

Deadened eyes slowly opened again, the pain on its forehead gone as if it were never there. It stared up to the ceiling of the dark, dank cell. That infernal sound filling the space with its torturous metronome. Four imposing walls of cold, aged –yet curiously solid- brick and mortar. The pungent stench of what could only be described as _death_ wafted through out the cell and beyond the heavily rusted bars of the doorway leading to the unknown…

* * *

 **To those who are following me, yes, I will be continuing 'This is War' but I simply want a change of pace.**

 **Thank you for reading, and I hope to have you join me again soon.**


	2. Key

**Disclaimer: All characters, concepts and locations are property of FromSoftware and Bandai/Namco.**

* * *

 **Embers**

Key

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

Another day had gone by. Thoughts, sounds, smells, all seemed irrelevant to it. Even the infuriating noise had become dull and static. In the beginning it could remember attempting to keep itself occupied. Simple tasks: etching count marks into the stone walls with the edge of a rusted shackle, counting the seconds of daylight the hole in the ceiling allowed the tiny cell, listening to the cries of anguish and despair that echoed from beyond the old iron bars. It did none of these things now. There was no point. It would always be in this cell, awaiting a fate that was a complete unknown.

 _You await the end of the world._

No. Not today. It has been tortured enough by the simple tedium of existing in this hellish place, unable to live yet denied death. The voice was most assuredly _not_ welcome now. Not that it ever was to begin with.

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Drip…_

 _Ka-chink…_

…What? Turning its hooded face toward the ceiling, it stared at the square hole. It sounded far from the hole but was steadily becoming louder. What was that sound? It was foreign, alien even. It sounded like pieces of metal clinking against each other. This new sound did not belong here. What was it doing here?

 _It is not here for you._

It was not asking the voice! The voice had no business in its affairs. Perhaps the sound would introduce other new sounds. Other noises that were different and wonderful compared to the horrid din it was subject to every single minute of every single hour of every day in this damp cell-

 _Thud! Thump!_

It jumped at the wholly unexpected noises, muscles involuntarily springing to life and then aching painfully once again at the sudden strain. Looking to the center of the cell once again, there was now a body. It seemed lifeless, clad in only filthy rags that barely kept its decency. Looking up again, it came to view another miraculously unexpected vision. It was a person, clad from head to toe in what looked to be glossy metal plating.

A person! A knight, perhaps! Oh, how lucky it had been to see what could have been another human. Perhaps they would speak with it, give it some whim of hope that it would –wait, where are they going?

The armored figure stood from its kneeling position over the hole of the cell, metal plates clinking together as they made their way off to some mysterious destination. It wanted to cry out, to beg the person to come back and stay with it. To relieve the torment it had suffered at the hands of loneliness –and that terrible _creature_ it saw from time to time. Alas, the person was gone and in their wake was the body on the stone floor.

The body was thin, thinner than it's own form was. It crawled over to the corpse, muscle tissue stinging with each movement. There had to be a reason for the armored person to throw this unfortunate soul down here. A small jingling came from the waist band of the torn rags as it turned the corpse over. It was a key, simple and basic. Shaking fingers ripped the key from the heavily corroded belt. Furtively, it looked up at the rusty iron barred door that served as the cell's entrance. Was this it? Was salvation from this excruciatingly hopeless place that simple? It couldn't be.

 _It's not._

It could dream. It's muscles willed themselves to action once more and it stood on shaky legs, black robes fluttering and in an instant it was in front of the bars. It hesitated.

Who was this knight? It trembled as it held up the key to it's face.

 _They're nobody._

What was their purpose? Examining the small piece of iron, it moved the key to the front of the lock holding the bar door tightly closed.

 _They simply wish to see you suffer._

A satisfying click resounded through the cell and the strangely familiar sound of rusted metal grinding and groaning against itself filled the space. The door was open.

 _You'll be back…_

There may be no answers, but one must still forge ahead.


End file.
